Harlequin
by Daggerfang
Summary: A valuable painting is stolen from a DC museum and NCIS gets involved in the mix when the thief encounters an off-duty Navy Seal and the Seal comes out second-best. Primarily a casefic but will have a little bit of romance between someone on the team and an OC thrown in as well. Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

This is primarily a casefic but there is some interpersonal stuff. Apart from the Navy Yard and Walter Reed, all locations are fictional. I don't own NCIS, naturally.

* * *

The black-clad thief bypassed the last alarm and smiled in satisfaction. A hand was run hand lovingly across the frame of the painting. _Just a few more steps and then it's mine._

The thief removed it from the wall and took the canvas out of the frame. The shipping tube that was brought along was opened and the replacement painting withdrawn. The original was gently rolled up and put in the shipping tube. The thief closed it and put it in a shoulder bag. Now, if there was any interruption, the cover-up could be abandoned and the bag simply grabbed before running. But for now, the longer nobody noticed, the better.

The frame was filled with the replacement canvas and re-mounted on the wall. Alarm bypasses on the frame undone, the thief picked up the bag and backed up a few steps. Looking at the painting, the thief grinned when confirming that the subtle change made to the subject of the painting didn't show up unless you looked at the forgery up close. _Excellent._

The main task done, all that was left was to make a clean getaway. The bag was slung securely over one shoulder and across the chest to the opposite hip. The thief carefully backtracked, removing all the alarm bypasses along the way - no need to let them know exactly how it was done, after all. The roof of the museum was reached and the thief took a grapnel gun out of the bag. The gun was pointed at a tree just outside the fence and fired. A nod of satisfaction was the only acknowledgment when the bolt went over the limb. A button on the gun was pressed which made the bolt open into a three-pronged grapnel. The rope was pulled back until the prongs of the grapnel engaged the limb and the rope stretched taut. A homemade remote-detachable tiedown was used to fasten the rope securely to an architectural feature on the old museum building.

The thief made sure his gloves were smooth then gripped the rope. Staying standing, the thief hung by the rope to make sure it would hold all the weight long enough. Once sure it would hold, the thief dipped into the bag again and withdrew a strip of thick canvas that had loops on each end. The canvas was flipped over the rope and hands stuck through the loop on each end. With the canvas gripped right at the points where the loops ended, the thief took a deep breath and pushed off the building.

A jogger was running down the sidewalk that was next to the street around the museum grounds when he saw the shadow of something fall to the ground. His trained eyes suddenly focused and saw someone stand up and look back at the museum. He stopped running and ducked behind a tree and watched carefully. He watched as the person pointed something at the museum and then started reeling in what looked like a rope. _Hmm. Fell to the ground from a rope, huh? Dressed in black at night, huh? Why don't I get the feeling this person is entirely innocent._

The jogger decided he needed to do something so he crept closer to the black-clad figure who he had guessed had most likely stolen something from the museum. Even as he got closer, he kept his eye on the person who was putting everything in a bag that was slung over a shoulder. The person was dressed in such a way that he couldn't tell if the gender. He was within five feet when his foot failed to avoid a dry stick and stepped on it. The _crack_ of the stick breaking rang out in the silence and he winced as the figure's head whipped around to look in his direction before running off in the opposite direction.

"Stop!" the man shouted, running after the supposed thief. Of course, the thief ignored him so he chased the thief through the trees. After about fifty yards he caught up and tackled the thief. His arms were shoved off and the thief jumped up with an agility that spoke of long training. He growled to himself and jumped up himself then suddenly doubled over as the thief snap-kicked him in the stomach. When he quickly went upright again to defend himself, the thief was already five yards away. Obviously escape was a greater priority for the thief right now. He resumed the chase and with his greater speed was able to catch up again. He jumped and tackled the thief again. They were pretty close to a tree and he saw the thief's head glance off of the tree and shake as if in pain. His opponent, however, was not dazed and struck back with a quick elbow to his throat. He ducked his chin down but the blow was still hard enough that his chin stung. He reflexively darted a hand to his chin and frowned when he felt wetness - his skin had been cut.

He saw the thief do a similar hand-wipe to the cheek and grinned toothily when he saw the glint of wetness as the light from a nearby streetlight hit the thief's hand. _One each._

They both stood up at the same time and looked at each other.

"I will not be taken alive."

The man nodded. The voice was carefully neutral in pitch and had a hint of a foreign accent. "A noble sentiment. Let's see if you can make it come true."

"So be it."

They came together in the dark, trading blows and blocks, each feeling the other out. Each realizing within a few quick minutes that their opponent was highly trained. The jogger was a Navy Seal on shore leave, highly trained not only to fight in multiple styles, but to recognize multiple other styles also and their counters. He frowned as he fought - he could not recognize the style the thief was fighting with as being from any of the other services he had studied. _Not from one of our services, then._

They circled each other as they continued to trade blows, each hampered in their own way. He was slightly bigger, both in height and weight so was just a little bit slower and, to his disgust, less agile. The thief, on the other hand, was encumbered by the bag which was still over a shoulder. Whatever the thief had stolen was inside that bag and he could understand why the thief refused to remove it. He continued his assessment. He had trained with NATO forces of various countries and he didn't think the thief's style fit any of them. He finally gave up, figuring it was probably just another one of the many obscure arts that arose in the Asian part of the world, and just concentrated on staying alive as the blows from the thief came faster and faster. He could tell that the thief was getting more desperate for escape as time ticked by. They were within view of the street now and obviously there was a danger of a passing police car seeing them.

What finished the fight was a little thing. He stepped into a block and his foot slid on the soft ground so his block wasn't placed correctly and the thief quickly pounced on it. A flurry of blows precisely timed to take advantage of that mistake got through causing him to stagger backwards. The thief pressed the attack and leaped at him with a flying kick. His head snapped back as the kick landed and he fell backwards, knocking his head hard on something. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a car screeching to a stop and the thief running away.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Ziva was idly playing solitaire on her computer while trying to ignore Tim and Tony's snoring. They were at an impasse with their current case until they got some test results but Gibbs refused to let them leave just yet.

Gibbs walked into the bullpen, growling at his team, "Gear up. We got another case." He tossed the keys to Ziva as the guys jolted awake. "Gas up the car."

Ziva smirked at Tony and McGee before grabbing her gear and heading for the elevator. The guys ran after her and Gibbs rolled his eyes at their antics before joining them.

As they rode the elevator, he gave them a quick brief. "Got a Navy Seal found in a park next to the street. A Metro PD cruiser came across him and called in an ambulance. Our guy was taken to Harper Hospital. Metro's secured the crime scene."

"He still alive, Boss?" Tony asked before yawning.

"Don't know. We'll find out when Ziva and I get there. He was still in surgery when I got the call."

"What about us, Boss?"

Gibbs handed him a piece of paper that had an address scrawled on it. "Go check out the crime scene. Let Metro help with the search but make it clear all evidence is ours for the time being."

"On it, Boss."

hr

Gibbs led Ziva into the hospital and approached the information desk. He showed the lady his badge and said, "I was called in about Lieutenant Thomas Hammerschmidt. Where can I find him?"

She typed on the computer and frowned. "He's still in surgical ward three. That's down that way..." Gibbs was already walking away.

Ziva shrugged at her and grinned an apology before running after her boss. "You got the call 30 minutes ago, yes?"

Gibbs looked at his watch. "About that, yeah."

"They say how long he had already been in surgery?"

"Nope." Gibbs shook his head as he walked faster. "Didn't have time to ask. We have evidence we need to get, if possible, before it's disposed of."

Ziva nodded and focused on keeping up.

Gibbs banged the door of the surgical ward open and approached the startled nurse's desk, flashing his badge again. "Special Agent Gibbs. You've got a Lieutenant Hammerschmidt here- what can you tell me?"

The nurse looked at the chart on the wall. "Still in surgery." She stood up. "I'll duck my head in and ask how long it will be."

Gibbs nodded, looking impatient. Ziva looked around and tapped Gibbs on the arm, gesturing towards some chairs off to the side. Gibbs grimaced and nodded. They went over and sat down, Gibbs with barely concealed impatience and Ziva with much more grace.

The nurse came back and came up to them. "Doctor Graham says it'll be another half hour at least. Lieutenant Hammerschmidt has some intracranial bleeding they're trying to find and stop."

Gibbs nodded. "What about his effects?"

"He was dressed in a jogging suit and running shoes. They cut the suit off and put it aside along with his shoes. When they're finished in the operating room, you can have them. Not sure if the Police still have his ID."

When it seemed Gibbs wasn't going to say anything else, Ziva spoke up. "Thank you, Nurse."

The nurse nodded and smiled before going back to her desk. Gibbs put his head back against the wall behind the chair and settled in to wait. Ziva squirmed about until she was more comfortable and wondered how Tony and Tim were doing.

hr

Tony pulled up behind a police car and they grabbed their bags from the back of the NCIS truck before approaching the police officers. They both showed their badges to the officer at the barrier. "Who's in charge here?"

He pointed behind him at a guy in a Metro PD jacket who was maybe twenty yards away at the edge of a treeline that paralleled the street. "That'd be Detective Sanchez"

Tony looked behind the cop and grinned. "Yo, Mike!" he called.

Sanchez turned and waved a hand in recognition. "Hey, DiNozzo. Come on in." He nodded to the cop and the policeman lifted the crime tape so Tony and Tim could duck under.

They followed his waved directions of where to walk until they came to him. Tony and Sanchez shook hands. "Tim, this here is Detective Sanchez. Mike Sanchez. Mike, this is Tim McGee." He waited until Tim and Mike had shook hands then said, "So what ya got for us? All our boss knew is that a Navy guy was found here and is now in the hospital." He wasn't sure if Sanchez knew the victim was a Seal and he wasn't going to announce it.

Sanchez nodded. "Yeah. One of our cruisers was driving around about forty-five minutes ago and saw two people fighting. One was knocked down and the other ran away. The Officer had to let the runaway go to check up on the knocked down one. The guy was bleeding from the back of his head so Officer Henderson called in an ambulance and gave first aid until the bus came. Wasn't until the EMTs could take over that he had the chance to look at ID. It was just a driver's license so we didn't realize he was Navy until we saw the dog tags and ran the guy through the system. " Sanchez looked down at a notepad in his hand. "Officer Henderson gave the ID to the EMTs but I knew if it involved the Navy that NCIS would want to be called in so I just went ahead and did it."

Tony nodded. "You're right about that. Thanks." He shrugged. "I know you guys in Metro are good but like I told you before, the higher-ups want us involved if the Navy was involved at all." He waved around at the crime scene where some techs had set up lights. "My boss said to have you guys help but turn over all evidence to us for the time being." Tony waited until Sanchez nodded then smiled. "So. What have you got so far?"

"Not a whole lot. The CSIs just got the lights set up here five minutes ago or so, but here - " He led them a few feet further to where an area was marked off. " - this is where Lieutenant Hammerschmidt was found. We also have some tracks heading over that way." He pointed away from the street and further into the trees. Tony could see evidence flags marking the path.

Tony looked around and nodded. "Okay. I'll stay out here with you guys." He turned to Tim. "McGee, why don't you take an officer and walk along the tracks and see if you find anything relevant."

Tim nodded, pulling a powerful flashlight and his camera out of his bag. "Sure, Tony."

Tony didn't bother watching him walk off - he was focused on the ground where the Lieutenant was found. The ground was scuffed for some space around it and the footprints were indented in various ways. That reminded him of something. "Mike, that officer of yours who saw them, did he say how they were fighting?"

"Some kind of karate he didn't recognize, he said."

Tony nodded and whistled. "Impressive."

"How's that, Tony?"

Tony looked up. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but now that he had... "Our Lieutenant was well trained," he said and left it at that. He walked around the immediate crime scene, being careful not to cross the boundary the CSIs had laid out. He pulled the camera out of his bag and started snapping pictures. Almost idly, he said, "Mike, I'll need to talk to that Officer of yours so don't let him go anywhere."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Gibbs walked into the bullpen, coffee in hand. "What have we got?" he asked before taking a sip.

Ziva was first up. She pressed the remote and a picture came up on the big screen. "Our victim is Lieutenant Thomas Hammerschmidt. Navy Seal. 29 years old, stationed at Coronado but was in town on leave. Not married. I talked to his CO half an hour ago and he was in town to visit his parents. His father is Captain Joseph Hammerschmidt who works at the Pentagon, shortlisted for Admiral at the next promotions board. As far as I have been able to tell, that's the only reason the Lieutenant was in town. He is staying with them instead of at a hotel - I have reached his parents but they are at the hospital with their son right now so I haven't been able to find out what he was doing in the Mall just yet. Also, I just called the hospital five minutes ago and he still hasn't regained consciousness. They promised to call us if anything changes. He was wearing a jogging suit and running shoes so the obvious conclusion was that he was running, but we won't know for sure until he wakes up and can tell us. He did have minimal items in his pockets, though - just driver's license and a house key. Abby has all the items now and is processing them."

Gibbs nodded - he already knew that from last night. Nothing new. He sipped some more coffee and looked at Tony and Tim.

Tony took the remote from Ziva. "The crime scene was in a tiny wooded park between the fence around the Museum of European Art and Independence Ave. The immediate place where Lieutenant Hammerschmidt was found was just a few feet away from the street and showed evidence of some pretty serious fighting. The Officer who witnessed the tail end of the fight and assisted the Lieutenant said it was, and I quote, 'some kind of karate I didn't recognize.' The Officer happens to be ex-Army and is a black belt in three different disciplines so he knows more about karate than seeing people in movies." He clicked the remote. "Fortunately the ground was soft so we were able to find several good shoeprints. A few were eliminated as being the Lieutenant's but these," he pointed at the screen, "are unidentified. We've asked the police to provide us with shoeprints from the EMTs and the original officer so Abby can officially eliminate them. Also, the Officer said that the other fighter had a bag over the shoulder, kind of long and narrow, more of a gym bag in shape than a messenger bag. We also found two sets of footprints leading from deeper into the trees which we will tentatively identify as the Lieutenant and the perp. Right at the edge of the fight scene I found some blood on a tree - luckily there was a light pointed right at it or I probably wouldn't have seen it then. I collected samples and gave them to Abby. I didn't follow the tracks into the trees, though. McWebelos did that part."

Tony grinned as he handed the remote to Tim and Gibbs restrained the urge to headslap Tony, setting for a disgusted look.

Tim pressed the remote and showed a series of pictures of footprints. "As best I was able to tell, the Lieutenant's footprints started here, in the middle of the trees, rather suddenly as if he started running hard, digging into the ground. The other set started about ten feet away or so, also in the middle of the trees. The footprints converged after five yards or so and there was a large disturbed area fifty yards further along where I found two sets of handprints and knee marks which suggest they went sprawling. Then the next place there was anything other than running was Tony's scene. So I went back to the handprints and took some samples. Abby has those and is processing them. They're rather smudged but hopefully she'll find a fingerprint that isn't or something. Better than having nothing to work with. I also went back to the original scene where their footprints started and I looked around. I saw some fresh bark on a bare patch of ground and looked up and there was a big limb. I didn't see anything until I backed away and saw a worn spot on a tree limb like a long rope had run over it or something. I had an officer get me a ladder and I went up and look what I found." He put up a picture of a tree limb with some odd wear marks on them, one on top and two underneath.

Gibbs grunted in satisfaction. "Grapnel hooks. That's good work, Tim. And, what was the rope pointing towards? It wouldn't happen to be the Museum of European Art, would it?"

Tim nodded. "It was, yes."

"So what are we thinking," Ziva spoke up. "Someone shot a grapnel from the museum to the tree and rode the rope down and our Lieutenant was jogging along the street and saw it and decided to be a good citizen and do something and got beaten up?"

"As likely as any other option we've got right now," Gibbs said. "Let's make a visit to the museum, shall we?"

"Field trip!" Tony said in a five-year-old kid voice, clapping his hands. "Yay!"

This time Gibbs _did_ headslap Tony.

"Thank you, Boss."

* * *

Tim rolled his eyes and held on to his patience as they climbed the stairs of the museum. Tony was running through all the different museum theft movies he could think of.

"And then there was that one with Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones - _Entrapment_ - I liked that one. Oh, you'll like this, Gibbs. 'Rule number one: never carry a gun. If you carry a gun you may be tempted to use it. Rule number two: never trust a naked woman.'" He grinned at the others, clearly waiting for them to identify the voice he was imitating as being Sean Connery.

Tim smirked as the only response was Ziva saying, "You'd know all about rule two, yes?"

Tony was in front so he opened the door and held it open for the rest. As Gibbs passed him, he growled, "Hate rule one."

"Of course, Boss. Rule one is a bad one." Tony said, hurrying to catch up with them.

Tim was in front so he looked around and saw the security station. He pointed to it and Gibbs nodded.

They all headed that way and at the desk, Gibbs flashed his badge. "NCIS. Need to talk to whoever's in charge here."

The guard nodded and spoke into his handie-talkie. "Sir, got some federal guys here want to talk to you." He listened then nodded. "My boss will be right with you in a few minutes, sir. If you'd like to wait over to the side please?"

Several minutes later, a stocky, well-dressed man approached. He had an obvious military bearing and Gibbs approached him. The man held his hand out. "Hello, I'm Jason Kendall. How may I help you?"

Gibbs shook his hand and then showed him his badge. "We're with NCIS - is there somewhere private we could talk?"

Kendall looked surprised. "NCIS, huh? When Joe said there were federal guys, I just assumed it'd be the FBI. No problem, though. We have a conference room right this way."

They all followed him to the conference room and when they had settled down around the table, Kendall spread his hands. "So what can I do for you?"

Gibbs got right to the point. "In the course of a case we've been working on since last night, we've found evidence that leads to some illegal nighttime activity that appears to include the museum. Is anything...hinky around here this morning?"

"Hinky?"

"Off. Funny. Weird. Not right." Tony said helpfully then stopped when Gibbs glared at him.

"Oh, that. Hmm." Kendall thought. "Well, at first I was going to say no, but now that I think about it..." He picked up the phone that was on the conference table and dialed a number. "Yeah, Mark? You know that thing you mentioned to me this morning that I thought was nothing? Turns out it just may be something after all. Mind bringing that tape to the conference room by the entrance? Thanks."

He hung up and looked at Gibbs. "Mark, one of my video guys, was reviewing the security footage from last night and he came to me saying that there was a suspicious blip on one of the security cameras."

"Blip?"

Kendall shrugged. "Yeah. Blip. It was less than a second, even, but in this business you can't be too careful so we double-checked and it _appeared_ to be nothing. Now, though." He shrugged again. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a timeframe for when this illegal nighttime activity took place?"

Gibbs turned to Tony. "When was it that Detective Sanchez said? Wasn't it 2300?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. The officer called it in at 2305."

Gibbs nodded in thanks. "Basically what happened was it appears that a jogger who happens to be a naval officer surprised someone who was right outside the fence to your west. He fought with this person and got knocked unconscious for his pains, but we found evidence of grapnel hooks in one of the trees at the scene and fairly deep footprints as if someone fell from a height. The footprints and grapnel marks both lead towards the conclusion that there was a rope crossing the fence." Gibbs spread his hands. "You see the obvious conclusion we reach."

Kendall grimaced. "We're known for having some of the highest security in the business but unfortunately that sometimes attracts the real pros instead of deterring them. After all, what we're guarding is worth the trouble. And they get street cred for doing it."

The door to the conference room opened and a man wheeled in a portable TV. "Figured I'd bring this along."

Kendall nodded. "Thanks, Mark. Say, what was the timestamp on that blip you showed me?"

"2245, I think." He turned to the TV cart and retrieved the cord, plugging it into a socket. He turned it on and pressed a remote, saying, "Let's see." They all watched a boring view of a corridor for ten seconds before the picture changed. The motion was almost too short to see but it was like something went across the camera view at high speed and then the view was of the corridor again, exactly as before. Mark froze the video and the timestamp was 2246.

"So, twenty minutes before the Officer called in the incident outside the fence." Gibbs mused.

Kendall pursed his lips. "Mark. Extreme silence on this one. Go get the Curator and...hmm...yes, get Assistant Curator Hemsley as well." He turned to the agents as Mark left. "The Curator's been on vacation and just got back. The Assistant Curator may possibly be more up-to-date on some of our exhibits."


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I was out of town last week so wasn't able to post chapter 3. Here it is now.

Oh, and I still don't own NCIS, etc.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Ziva was watching the young Assistant Curator, a Miss Stefanie Hemsley, when they explained what had happened. She knew they were about to get a break when Miss Hemsley's eyes widened.

"What hallway was that?" Miss Hemsley demanded. When Kendall told her, her eyes narrowed and she whispered, "Shit, the Alexander exhibit." and ran out the door.

Ziva sprinted after her, just in case, but when she caught up to her at the elevator and she didn't try to run further, she relaxed. Miss Hemsley didn't relax but punched the elevator buttons impatiently and growled when the elevator doors didn't open immediately. Ziva waited patiently next to her and grinned at Tim when he caught up to them. He whispered to her, "Tony and Gibbs are still back there talking to the Curator. What'd she say?"

The elevator doors opened before she could answer and they all went in and Miss Hemsley impatiently punched the button for the third floor.

When the doors closed, Ziva took the opportunity to ask, "What's the Alexander exhibit?"

The other woman sighed. "We have a new display starting in two days and we've been getting it ready for the past three weeks. We have paintings by Alexander - full name Alexander Kinloch - on loan from several museums in Europe. Some of them are literally priceless, any one of which would be a tempting target for a thief."

"So you know which ones you'll be checking first, yes?"

She nodded and when the elevator doors opened she ran out the elevator and Ziva and Tim followed her. They went down several hallways, one of which Ziva recognized from the video, before arriving at the exhibit. Miss Hemsley stopped at the closed doorway. She pressed a certain spot on the wall next to the door and a little door opened revealing a palm-reader. She put her hand on it and waited until it beeped before she unlocked the door. Even then, she held Ziva and Tim back. She immediately looked around and muttered, "Nothing seems to be missing." She pulled a key out of her pocket and inserted it into a lock in the wall just inside the doorway, turning it back and forth in a pattern before pulling the key back, thus opening the little door in the wall. It revealed a keypad and she punched in a long code - Ziva counted fifteen digits. Miss Hemsley turned to them and said, "Do not touch _anything_ until I tell you it's okay." She then went up to several paintings in turn and examined them very carefully, holding her hands behind her back so she wouldn't touch any of them, taking ten or fifteen minutes with each one before shaking her head and moving on. At the fifth one, she'd been looking for barely a minute before she stiffened. She looked even closer for about five minutes before she quietly cursed again.

Ziva was alert and heard her. "That is not the right painting, yes?"

"No, it's not," Miss Hemsley growled. "It's a forgery. It's a very good one, too. If it wasn't for the taunting tell, I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been spending every minute of the last three weeks with them. I still checked anyway to make sure he wasn't playing a joke on us." She pulled a phone from her pocket and dialed. "Mr. Johnstone? I think you'd better come up to the Alexander Exhibit." She hung up and spent the time waiting for them to arrive by looking at another painting.

Ziva grinned. She approved of this one - not assuming that it was the only one taken. She looked at Tim and caught him looking at Miss Hemsley's butt. Ziva smirked - she had to admit that it was a nice one, especially since the skirt was pulled tight across it and she didn't - totally - blame Tim for ogling the lady. The lady in question was slender, about 5'11", with obviously long blond hair that was wrapped up in a bun on top of her head. Ziva looked down and raised her eyebrows. _The lady knows how to run in heels. Four inch heels. Interesting._ She subtly waved at Tim to catch his attention. When he looked at her, she pointed at the heels and pantomimed running, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips in a silent whistle. Tim raised his eyebrows and nodded, impressed. Ziva then pointed at Miss Hemsley's butt and shook her finger at Tim. He blushed and deliberately turned away. Ziva smirked again and mentally downgraded her estimation of the height to be closer to her own 5'7" on account of the heels.

When the other group entered the room, Gibbs immediately looked at Ziva. She nodded and pointed to the forged painting.

Mr. Johnstone said, "Which one is it, Miss Hemsley?"

She mutely pointed at the painting she'd identified.

He approached it and took a look, using the same pose she had, hands behind back, peering closely. After only a minute, he stood up and turned to them with a sigh. "He's struck, just like he said he would."

Kendall cursed and Miss Hemsley nodded grimly. The NCIS agents just looked puzzled.

Gibbs sighed in exasperation. "Who's 'he' and what's going on?"

"The damn Harlequin," Kendall said.

The Curator sighed wearily. "The Harlequin is the name we've given to a particular art thief who always adds a little marker to his forgeries. Look here," he said, beckoning them closer.

Ziva followed his pointing finger and saw the tiny figure of a person costumed like a harlequin in the background of the painting.

"I take it that's not supposed to be there?" Tony commented.

"No." The Curator shook his head, looking ten years older all of a sudden. "When we announced that we'd be hosting the Alexander collection, we started getting letters saying that one of the paintings would be stolen. They were signed with the Harlequin's trademark. So of course we called in the FBI and Interpol and stepped up security. For nothing, apparently. He got in anyway."

"But how?" Kendall burst out. "No other museum in the world has the kind of security we do. Even now, only half of our security measures are off. If we were to so much as touch any of these paintings, alarms would go off and this room would be locked down."

Ziva lifted an eyebrow. "So all the locks at the doorway, palm reader and keypad, all that is extra for when the museum has no people legitimately in this room, yes?"

Kendall nodded. "If anyone tries to unlock the door without approval from the palm reader, an alarm is sounded. There is a metal door behind the regular door that does not open until the palm reader grants access. Then you must have the right key - it's a magnetic key, of which there are only four copies - to open the door. Once inside the door, there is only three feet around the entryway that is safe at that point. Before you can move further into the room, you must enter a code on the keypad. Once that is entered, the floor sensors and laser sensors turn off. But before you can enter the code, you must unlock the keypad cover in a certain way, turning the key in a specific pattern. If you don't, again, an alarm sounds and the room goes into lockdown."

"On top of that," Mr. Johnstone said, "the cameras in this room are _always_ on and there is only one way to turn off the sensors that are directly on the paintings themselves. And it is individual to each painting, behind each one and not visible to the naked eye. Plus once you put your hand behind the painting, you only have fifteen seconds to turn off the alarm so you need to know what you are doing."

Ziva looked at her teammates and Tony was looking impressed yet bewildered. Tim, on the other hand, whistled. "That's a really nice system."

"I thought so, too," Kendall said. "But somehow, someone got in and out undetected."

"Not quite undetected," Gibbs reminded him.

"As good as, from my perspective," Kendall sighed.

Ziva approached the painting. "How big is it, really? I can't tell because of the frame."

"30 inches wide by 70 inches high." Miss Hemsley said.

"And would Harlequin have rolled it up into a 30 inch long tube to carry it in and out?"

Miss Hemsley shrugged. "Most likely, yes."

Ziva turned to Tony. "Didn't you say that the Officer said the person who ran away was carrying a gym bag-like duffel?"

"Yeah."

"Big enough? 30 inches?"

"Good question," Tony said. "I'll ask." He pulled out a notebook and made a note.

Ziva stood in thought, feeling there was something else she wanted to ask.

Gibbs asked, "So he..."

Ziva interrupted. "Wait. Sorry Gibbs, but it was bothering me - does anyone actually know if Harlequin is male or female?"

"Actually, no," Kendall said. "We just say 'he' but we don't actually know."

"Good catch, Ziver." Gibbs said. "Alright, gender unknown. Which leads to the next question - is there any suspicion as to who he is?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Kendall said, frowning. "Interpol may be able to answer that better, though."

Gibbs snapped his notebook shut. "Well, I'm glad we alerted you to this theft but it doesn't really help us very much with our own case yet. We'll let you make the report to the FBI and we'll coordinate with them."

Mr. Johnstone smiled ironically. "Yeah. Well, we'll take care of the report, like you said." He turned to Miss Hemsley. "Since the rest of the exhibit is pretty set, your current responsibility is to coordinate with the FBI, NCIS, and Interpol to see if we can at least get the painting back."

Miss Hemsley nodded and Gibbs said, "Why don't you go ahead and ride back with us and we can get started?"


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Stefanie looked around the conference room, swiveling idly in her chair. Agent David came in and handed her a cup of coffee. "Thanks," she said.

Agent David inclined her head in acknowledgment. "So, Miss Hemsley -"

Stefanie winced and interrupted, "That's what they call me at work and it gets old pretty fast. Why don't you just call me Stefanie."

"Stefanie," she smiled. "And I'm Ziva. So, what can you tell me about these robbery threats?"

Stefanie sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Well, like we said at the Museum, when we announced the exhibit, we started getting these letters."

"And when was the announcement?"

"Three months ago." Stefanie leaned forward and folded her hands on the table. "You have to realize, though, that we've been working on this for two years. Dealing with seven other museums was a headache just with the logistics. And then you put their security concerns on top of that and it was a royal pain. We started remodeling the exhibit hall over a year ago specifically for this exhibit in mind." She exhaled and waved a hand. "Anyway, the threats. We got the first one maybe a week after the announcement. We _always_ get crank threats, though, so we kind of ignored it. Then the next one came, and the next one, all three a week apart, and they all said exactly the same thing so we brought in the FBI and Interpol. They did take it seriously, but at the same time our security was state-of-the-art so nobody was too worried. We figured if someone actually tried, they'd get caught in the room if they ever made it that far. Obviously that didn't happen." She shook her head. "We've got to get it back ASAP - and quietly - or the entire exhibit may be canceled."

"ASAP I understand, but why quietly?"

"If the other museums find out we have a hole in our security, they'll immediately pull their permissions. We'd have to send the paintings back to them - more likely they'd come and take them - which obviously means no exhibit. That'd be very bad for us. That's one reason. And the other reason is if it gets out that something was successfully stolen, we'll get a whole bunch of second-raters trying to copy it which will be a huge hassle."

Ziva nodded. "Now, you said the painting was a forgery. How long would it take to do something like that?"

Stefanie shrugged. "It all depends on the skill of the forger. If the forger is really really good, maybe a week or two. If merely 'good' then a month."

Ziva made a note. "And what about what Mr. Kendall said - four copies of the magnetic key. Who has those copies?"

"Mr. Johnstone, Mr. Kendall, Mr. Alfredsson, and me."

"And who is Mr. Alfredsson?"

"The other Assistant Curator."

"And you are _positive_ that these are the only copies in existence?"

Stefanie nodded then shrugged. "As positive as I can be. The copying is done in-house and at least two of the four of us have to be present to enter our codes into the keying machine for it to make the copies."

"Is that the same code you entered in the keypad?"

"Yes."

Ziva made another note then looked up and Stefanie felt like she was staring into her brain through the eyes. "And with that in mind, what is the possibility it could be an inside job?"

Stefanie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "As much as I don't want to face the possibility...it is there." She looked up at Ziva earnestly. "But if it is - I have no idea who it could be. Before today, I'd have said all three men were above reproach but now...now I wonder."

"And when did you start to wonder? And why?"

Stefanie pursed her lips. "Honestly? When I was opening up the room - that's when I reminded myself of all the security measures we had. And I know it makes me look equally bad, but if only four people have keys and entry codes, that really reduces the number of people it _could_ be if it's internal."

Agent DiNozzo stuck his head through the door and said, "Ziva? Gibbs wants you two in the bullpen."

* * *

Gibbs was waiting at the entry to the bullpen. When Ziva and the Museum gal came in, he held Ziva back. "Uh, Miss Hemsley, go ahead and introduce yourself to everyone there."

After she went off, Gibbs pulled Ziva away from the bullpen. "What's your gut tell you, Ziva? Can we trust her to be straight with us?"

Ziva shrugged. "Well, she is not a cop so she may not think about certain kinds of information the same way we do, but my gut feeling? She was pretty straightforward with me, answering all my questions. I do not think she has anything to do with it. I did not notice anything hinky."

Gibbs nodded. "Ok. Good enough for now, but keep an eye on her."

When they went back into the bullpen, Fornell was introducing himself and the person with him to Miss Hemsley. "And this is Agent Joe Albrecht. He's the FBI's Interpol liaison for Artifact Theft related crimes."

Gibbs leaned against his desk and nodded to Fornell. "Go ahead."

"Actually, this is Joe's show." Fornell waved to Albrecht. "You're up."

Albrecht held up a flash drive. "Before I start, who should I give this to to get it put up on the screen?"

"I'll take that," McGee said and held out a hand. Albrecht gave it to him and McGee plugged it into his computer then opened the file Albrecht pointed out.

The Interpol logo showed up on the screen and Albrecht took the control McGee handed him. "Alright, this is what we know about Harlequin which, really, isn't too much but anything helps." He clicked and the logo was replaced by text. "The art thief known as Harlequin was first confirmed as having stolen an object in 2001. Since then, we have documented evidence of 17 thefts by Harlequin. Now, we are not certain if it is a single individual or a group. The reason we say that is the notes from Harlequin always say 'I' but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Also, there have been other thefts by two other entities with similar names - Scaramouche and Jester. This may or may not be significant, but they all have stolen 17 objects and it's always in the same order - Harlequin, Scaramouche, and Jester. We are not sure if they work together for the actual theft or not. In fact, we are not even sure if it really is just one person using three different names for different types of objects. Harlequin focuses on paintings. Scaramouche focuses on old, historically significant jewelry. Jester seems to be a little more eclectic - rare books, archaeological items, things like that."

He clicked again and the picture of a harlequin came up. "The forgeries Harlequin leaves behind always has this type of image in them."

He waved a hand and continued. "Recently, Harlequin has begun taunting the museums before stealing objects. The letters Miss Hemsley's museum received are perfect examples of Harlequin's MO the last five years or so. Before that, he simply stole the painting and left a forgery in its place. This and the forgeries themselves are the only forensic evidence we have of Harlequin." He clicked and a picture of a letter came up, zoomed in on the signature at the bottom. The signature was just an image of a woman in black and white makeup, wearing a red and black clown/jester type costume. "Harley Quinn," he said.

Gibbs stared at him. "Seriously?"

Tony said, "It's from Batman, Boss, she's..."

"I know who she is, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled. "I was just surprised."

Joe nodded and shrugged. Another click and a paper with a single word - Scaramouche - showed up on it. "That's all Scaramouche leaves behind. The jewelry simply disappears and this is left in its place. About the same time as Harlequin started taunting museums, Scaramouche - and Jester, too, for that matter - started doing so as well." Another click and a paper showed up with just a silhouette of a man. "That's what gets sent to the museums - sometimes months before Scaramouche hits and sometimes only a week. But they always arrive one week apart from each other if there's more than one."

Gibbs made a disgusted noise in his throat. "That? That's a taunt? What?"

"Ohhhhh, I get it," Tony said. "Bohemian Rhapsody, right?"

Albrecht nodded, an embarrassed wince on his face, and Tony continued. "That's a song by Queen, Boss. There's a line in it that goes 'I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?"

"Yeah," Albrecht shrugged. "Some people at Interpol feel Scaramouche is daring us to catch him - i.e., dance. They also feel that the choice of a Queen song is relevant because most of the jewelry Scaramouche steals is related to royalty. As a matter of fact, some of our profilers say the very names themselves are taunts. After all, what are Harlequin, Scaramouche and Jester?"

"Fools," McGee said.

"Right. These profilers say they're basically saying 'I call myself a fool, but I'm not the real fool here.'"

"I take it Jester's notes or whatever are similar?" Gibbs asked.

Albrecht shrugged and nodded, clicking through a few more pictures that showed a paper with "Jester" on it, then another paper with a picture of a jester's hat on it, then a picture of Danny Kaye wearing a jester's costume. "And that's probably the one that rubs my boss the wrong way the most."

"Why?" Ziva said. "It's just a picture of a man."

"The Court Jester," Tony said. "Danny Kaye played the title role in that movie pretending to be a jester but really trying to overthrow an illegitimate king. With people impersonating others right and left and magic and Danny Kaye switching back and forth between being a buffoon and knowing what he's doing. It's actually a comedic classic."

"Oh, I love that movie," Abby said from the hallway.

"Exactly," Albrecht said. "That's why my boss hates it - that used to be his favorite movie but now he says he can't enjoy it anymore. Now I know you're probably saying 'What good does all this do us?' which is entirely understandable. What it comes down to is, that's all we know of that would help you know you were on the right track if found."

"Not the only thing!" Abby cried.

"What's that, Abs?" Gibbs said before anyone else could.

"Remember that blot of fairly fresh blood you found on a tree, Tony? Yeah, anyway, that is _not_ from our poor Lieutenant which, by a reasonable inference, means it must belong to the other combatant. Which, of course, can't be confirmed just yet but if it is, and the combatant is indeed our art thief, that would mean he'd be the guy you're looking for."

"But we don't know the gender," Albrecht said.

"Ah ha. The DNA tells us that this person is, indeed, male and has several significant markers which points towards being Oriental, or at least having some Oriental genes which, again, is not 100% reliable information just yet but when you catch up to this jester or whatever he's called, you just need to match up DNA and you most likely have your assailant, disguise or not." She paused significantly. "Get it?"

"Got it," Tony said, grinning.

Abby beamed. "Good!"


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ugh. This chapter didn't want to cooperate with me. I'm still not 100% happy with it but I think I finally got it to behave after three or four rewrites.

* * *

The man opened the door from the stairwell and peeked into the corridors. Good. This late at night there was nobody around, just like he had hoped.

He walked up the corridor towards the room he wanted. He saw a man in front of the room. Obviously a guard. He hooked his thumbs casually in his pockets and walked straight ahead as if he were going to pass the room, but veered ever so slightly towards him.

When he passed the guard, he quickly bent forward, lashing out with his foot high and to the right, catching the relaxing guard in the throat with the toe of his shoe. The guard was unable to react in time and was struck full-force. The man wheeled and caught the suddenly gasing for breath guard by the head and quickly twisted. He grimaced at the snap of the guard's neck. He generally preferred not to make that kind of noise, but it couldn't be avoided this time. He took a quick glance down the hallway to verify that nobody had seen him and quickly put on a pair of gloves before he opened the door to the room, pulling the guard in with him.

He dropped the guard by the door and went to the foot of the patient's bed. He looked at the clipboard that hospitals always seemed to have there and verified that the name was the right one given to him by his source. He nodded when it matched and approached the man lying there.

He withdrew a syringe from the inner pocket of his jacket and uncapped it, keeping the cap. He stuck the needle in the injection port of the IV tube and pushed the plunger. He took the needle out and put the cap back on.

He put the syringe back in his pocket and picked the guard up. He opened the door slightly then maneuvered the guard so that he would fall against the door as it closed. That done, he closed the door behind him and walked down the hallway back the way he had come. He went down the stairwell a floor before he picked a empty room at random then deposited the syringe into the Sharps disposal box there.

That done, he went back to the stairwell and exited the hospital, having successfully avoided any attention being drawn to him.

* * *

_McGregor watched as Officer Lisa pointed to the Assistant Curator's butt and shook her finger at him. He raised his eyebrow at her and smirked then deliberately looked back at the Assistant Curator's butt._

Tim woke up suddenly and looked around wildly. He heard his phone ring again and grabbed it. He looked at the Caller ID - it was Gibbs. "McGee," he answered.

"Meet me at the hospital - the Navy Seal and his guard were both killed an hour ago." *click*

"Damn." He rubbed his hand over his eyes and looked at his clock as he got up. _2 a.m. Damn_. As he staggered towards the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush his teeth, he passed his typewriter. Right on top of the pile of papers was the scene he had just been dreaming about. With a blush, he picked up the three sheets of paper in question and ripped them up before putting them on top of the shredder to shred later. He'd learned his lesson; no more shredding paper at o'dark-o-clock in the morning.

He'd just typed that scene as a way of venting about what he half-daydreamed about doing at the museum when he was caught staring at Stefanie's butt, instead of just blushing and looking away. Then he went and dreamed about it. There was no way he was going to chance Tony and Ziva finding out about that, he thought as he washed his face. And Abby? He shuddered at the thought. He finished quickly and dried off perfunctorily before he wrapped the towel around his hips and brushed his teeth.

Feeling awake now, he rushed back to his room and dressed in fresh clothes. Jethro looked up at him. "Go back to sleep, boy. I'll be back later," Tim said. The dog yawned and flopped his head back down.

A fifteen minute drive later, he was pulling into the hospital parking lot. He called Gibbs. "Hey boss, I'm at the hospital. Where are you?" he asked after Gibbs answered.

"Third floor. Room 341."

"Be right there." Tim hung up and hurried inside and towards the elevators. The closing doors on one of them prompted him to call, "Hold the elevator, please!"

A hand shot out and stopped the door. He jumped in hurriedly and said, "Thanks," before he turned to see Ziva's grinning face.

"Good morning, Tim," she said with a trace of sarcasm that seemed entirely appropriate given what time it was.

"Yeah, good morning," he grunted back.

"Late night?"

"Yeah. I was writing." In spite of himself, he blushed.

"Oooh. You are blushing. It must have been _interesting_," Ziva teased.

Tim was saved from responding by the elevator door opening. They hurried down the long corridor towards room 341 and Gibbs, who Tim could see waiting. When they got closer, Tim heard the voices of Ducky and Palmer inside but didn't get the chance to look inside because Gibbs was immediately barking orders.

"Ducky says the guard's neck was broken and he suspects Hammerschmidt was poisoned through his IV. We need to talk to all hospital staff who could have seen anything. We also need to collect all syringes we find. Tony's already doing that on this floor. Ziva, take the first floor. Tim, take the second. When you're done, take the evidence back to Abby and then start investigating the museum staff and see if you can find anything hinky on anyone that could indicate they were the insider. The museum theft is now part of our case all the way and I'll be talking to the FBI and Interpol about getting any other evidence they have. Go!"

They both nodded and hurried back to the elevator.

Tim stifled a yawn in the elevator and then hurried out at the second floor. He knew better than to complain about the hour - things happened - but he did wish he'd gotten more sleep. At the nurse's station, he explained to the head nurse what was going on and what he needed.

"We don't have a lot of patients on this floor at the moment so it's quiet. I'll take you around myself."

Sure enough, 60% of the rooms were empty. When Tim asked why, she shrugged and said, "Various reasons. The biggest one is, this floor is for long term patients - those staying with us longer than a night or two - and we just don't have a lot of those at the moment. Unfortunately, it's most likely just a temporary lull. Every time we get this low it never lasts more than a day or two," she sighed.

They got through most of the rooms pretty quickly, it being simple enough to determine with a glance that there was nothing in the Sharps boxes in those rooms. There turned out to be a few in the occupied rooms which was no surprise. The patients in those rooms were asleep so they were as quiet as they could. None of them woke up which made Tim think it was at least possible that the murderer had slipped in quietly and disposed of the syringe.

That was assuming, of course, that he hadn't kept the syringe and disposed of it somewhere else but something in Tim's gut told him otherwise. This guy was a pro and he'd want to get rid of any evidence as soon as possible where it didn't look out of place or at least didn't arouse suspicion.

So Tim dutifully confiscated them with the nurse's help and put them in evidence bags. Along the way, he talked to any hospital staff they encountered in the hallways. Unsurprisingly, none of them had seen anything. Even with the hospital still being "awake" and busy at night, the fact that there were way less people around had been evidenced by how Tim and the head nurse were often the only people in the hallways for several minutes at a time.

The one real surprise they had was when they had gone in one of the empty rooms and found a syringe in the Sharps box. When they saw it, the nurse grunted in surprise. "Huh. Nobody's been in this room for three days." Tim narrowed his eyes at that and put it in an evidence bag and put it right at the top of the pile for Abby to test first.

When they had finished the floor without any other surprises, Tim talked to the rest of the staff and determined they had seen exactly what the others had seen - nothing. He nodded and thanked them before leaving.

He drove to the office and dropped off the evidence with Abby before going upstairs to his desk.


End file.
